


Paradox Personified

by levitatethis



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-18
Updated: 2010-05-18
Packaged: 2017-10-09 13:16:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/87900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levitatethis/pseuds/levitatethis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in a not too distant future, a tense debriefing follows a strange mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paradox Personified

_“And she tied you to her kitchen chair   
She broke your throne and she cut your hair   
And from you lips she drew a Hallelujah” _  
**-Leonard Cohen, **_**Hallelujah**_

 

They play out like clockwork.

Gabriel and Mohinder are sent out on an assignment, which they settle within a timely period. Upon returning to Company headquarters they are debriefed by double agent Resistance members and await new orders.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Within that countdown are conversations that heatedly touch on the past but skirt about the intimate details of unforgotten betrayal. They maintain a respectable distance to ensure their work gets done, but they are conscientious of what has brought them here—unexpectedly together, as partners—each step of the way.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

It does not matter if they know each other best. Everything must follow a specific set of unspoken but agreed on rules. It plays out like clockwork—dependable, reliable, and constant.

But now there is a stutter in the motion and it is—they are—out of sync.

Ten minutes into his and Mohinder’s meeting with Fatima Griswold and the stilted weirdness from the last half of their latest mission is ripe between them. Mohinder, known for long detailed responses (and truth be told Gabriel, for all his mocking ridicule of Mohinder’s inability to surmise a point succinctly, instead trying to explain every single possibility, actually enjoys listening to the thorough analysis of their work tripping off the accented tongue) is now offering little more than curt responses. Halting and vague they read as if Mohinder is trying to get through the debriefing as fast as possible but his changed behaviour is only drawing more attention to what is not being said.

Gabriel does not need Parkman’s ability to know what is bothering Mohinder but a little mind invasion would certainly clarify the extent of why Mohinder is in such a snit.

He notices Fatima finish jotting down some notes then glance up at Mohinder with an uncertain expression before looking his way. Self-consciously she pushes her hair behind her ear and bites the inside of her right cheek. With the pen she has in hand hovering a millimeter from the paper she asks, “So everything went…”

She looks at Mohinder again. “…smoothly with Lestor Fitzgibbons?”

“It was pretty straightforward.”   
“It was fine!”

Their words tumble over top each other but whereas Gabriel’s tone is relaxed, Mohinder’s is tense, cutting notably louder than intended. Gabriel casts a sideways glance and takes in the sight (_quite delectable really_) of Mohinder sitting upright with both feet planted firmly on the floor (not right crossed over left in one of his more easy going presentations) and both arms flat against the armrests, his hands gripping the ends. Mohinder stares straight ahead.

When Fatima looks at Gabriel he offers her a smile that says, _‘tell me about it.’_

“You’ll have to excuse my partner,” is what Gabriel does verbalize, “but he seems to have forgotten his conversational skills today.”

“Don’t speak for me,” Mohinder says as Fatima’s cell phone rings. She answers it with an expression of irritation at them and the interruption.

Gabriel shifts in his chair to eye Mohinder directly. “Because you’re doing such a good job of it yourself?”

Still holding his body facing forward, Mohinder turns his gaze to Gabriel. The annoyance in his eyes makes Gabriel smile inwardly.

“Can we just finish this?” Mohinder says through clenched teeth.

Gabriel leans towards him and waits a moment; just enough time to make Mohinder a little bit uncomfortable, then says in a low voice, “I don’t know, can we?”

Mohinder glances at Fatima who is making a ‘wrap it up’ motion in the air with her left hand as if the caller can see her encouraging him to get to the point, then he looks back at Gabriel.

“That’s what she’s trying to do,” Gabriel points out, “but the more you act like you’re hiding something the longer she has to spend on our report.”

Mohinder’s quick retort dies on his lips when Fatima stands up and shoves her cell phone in her jacket pocket.

“I have to meet with Gael.”

Both Gabriel and Mohinder begin to stand up but she waves them down. “Peter’s going to want to talk with you both.”

With that, she leaves them behind, the click of the door echoing loudly.

“Great,” Mohinder mutters and runs his hand through his hair, avoiding eye contact.

Considering they are now stuck in this room Gabriel figures some self-created entertainment is in order; and if it gets to the crux of what ails Mohinder, all the better. He scoots down in his chair, angled so that his back is propped up by the corner, and folds his arms across his chest, shooting an unwavering gaze at Mohinder.

“I had no idea a kiss would have such an impact on you, Mohinder.”

The glare that Mohinder casts his way tells him he is on the right track, but Gabriel already knew that. There is something else to Mohinder’s more antagonistic than usual attitude.

“I can’t believe you—this has nothing to do with that…with _that_,” Mohinder flusters in his denial of the assertion. His grip on the armrests pulls the skin tight around his knuckles as he channels the intensity of what he is trying to suppress into a physical hold.

Gabriel cocks his head to the side and gives him a half smile, clearly enjoying how easily he has reduced the man to a stammering state. “You’re right. You’ve been nothing but sunshine and roses since the…incident. So what if you got more than you bargained for—,”

“Wha?—hold on one minute. More than I bargained for? What exactly are you implying?”

“There’s no implication here when the facts speak for themselves,” Gabriel plays coy before going in for the strike. “_You_ kissed _me_.”

Mohinder sucks in his breath sharply. “It was part of our cover,” he says starting to look back at the closed door only to have Gabriel telekinetically turn his head, and attention, back to him. “It was all part of the plan, nothing more. I don’t know what you’ve turned it into.”

Gabriel narrows his eyes inquisitively, the smile sliding off his face. Straightening up he asks, “Are you pretending to misremember?”

“That you almost got us caught? That Lestor would have figured it out if I hadn’t…acted quickly?” Mohinder questions quickly. He raises one eyebrow and Gabriel releases the invisible grip. “The kiss was a work necessity.”

Gabriel knows Mohinder is holding back but he is suddenly uncertain about the best way to proceed. It is disorienting. It should be simple enough to just keep going and pushing Mohinder’s buttons until he gets the response he would put money on is twitching mercilessly below the surface. It is not only making Mohinder squirm that proves a worthy battle cry but that such an admission would be the affirmation Gabriel has secretly harbored—the extent of which did not reveal itself in any clear and concise manner.

Gabriel shrugs his shoulders. “So then the silent treatment was simply you processing the job?”

“What else would it be?” Mohinder says quickly (_too quickly_) and he scoffs, looking down at his hands resting in his lap.

Gabriel tuts his tongue on the back of his top two front teeth and says, “You’re decent enough at withholding your true intent.” He hunches forward, clasping his hands between his parted legs and glances at Mohinder out of the corner of his eye. “But you’re not that good an actor.”

He waits for Mohinder to turn and look at him, then pushes—mindfully, with awareness—forward. “There were other options. You _chose_ to kiss me.”

“Sylar, it was the easiest—,”

“The first time—yes—but the second time?”

Gabriel imagines a flurry of contradictory thoughts racing below the indentations of Mohinder’s wrinkled brow.

“I was caught…”

“Up in the moment,” Gabriel finishes the sentence.

“Off guard,” Mohinder clarifies. “Besides, as I recall you weren’t exactly _resistant_.”

He can always rely on Mohinder to rediscover the wherewithal to launch a counterattack, and one that goes straight to the heart. It is instinctive and emotional, a sharp contrast to the rational logic that defines his scientific side. Gabriel is fascinated by the extremes that possess Mohinder, the same ones that he found his unexpected match in.

As such, Mohinder’s aggressive remark is not completely unexpected. The right buttons, prodded in just the right order, keep things moving. Until Mohinder cracks, however, Gabriel plans to stand his ground.

“Like you, I was playing the part,” Gabriel says.

He finds himself momentarily caught up in Mohinder’s attentive stare as he eyes him back and, without warning, leans over the armrest and says, “Is that so? I dare say you’re the one who got more than you bargained for.”

Five seconds feels like a lifetime when the truth (or the mere hint of it) is (_unintentionally_?) put on display as an indisputable fact. Gabriel doubts Mohinder actually realizes what he has said. In fact the small turn up of the left side of his mouth, into a mini smile, confirms to Gabriel that Mohinder is mostly enjoying turning the earlier taunts around for the purpose of inflicting discomfort—but without the depth of knowledge encased in his words.

“You’re so irresistible,” Gabriel sarcastically says with a roll of his eyes and Mohinder looks away, embarrassed. “Your best track record is with me so this overconfident display is pathetically endearing—or endearingly pathetic. Same difference.”

Mohinder turns away and in observing the droop in his shoulders and the downturn of his face, Gabriel wonders if he is going to bolt; give up his oppositional challenge and accept this touchy blow to his character with misplaced pride, which would be admirable but—

“Such derisive put downs for someone so _unaffected_ and above it all.”

Walking away would not be Mohinder.

Gabriel muffles a smile at Mohinder’s refusal to give in and his willingness to follow further into the argument that is getting increasingly personal.

Mohinder sits back in his chair and stretches his right leg out. “You don’t hide what you’re thinking—or at least you prefer to be relatively upfront,” he eyes Gabriel. “That controlled power gives you a rush so this defensive posturing, Sylar, goes hand in hand with the fact that you didn’t want to let go.”

Gabriel considers a strong-fisted denial just to make a point, but a memory flashes vividly and insistently proves more powerful than his stubbornness. He had become so complacent in his superiority that getting caught off guard is a rarity but also a very real weakness.

_Self-confidence is a double-edged sword and when Lestor abruptly stopped and turned around Gabriel had but a split second to react. _

_Mohinder was already ahead of him. _

_Gabriel turned away from Lestor to warn Mohinder and was unprepared for the tight grip of Mohinder’s fists around his shirt, tugging at his chest, as he pulled him into a kiss. A surprised utterance was exclaimed in the touch of lips to lips and whether it came from him or Mohinder hardly mattered, not when Gabriel’s skin was sparked to life and his breath stolen in the communion of their tongues. They had both pulled back, staring at each other in disbelief, barely noticing with a quick glance to the side that Lestor was stopped in place checking his Blackberry. _

_Without noticing his pursuers, Lestor had turned again and put his back to them to make another phone call. With Mohinder’s attention elsewhere, Gabriel had taken the unanticipated opportunity to feel him in his space. It was no lie that he had thought about kissing Mohinder once or twice (okay, three times) since they had first met but it existed in the realm of an unattainable fantasy meant to cure an unfocused mind. There was never a want for it to become a reality and with no expectation of it doing so it was just another one of those things. _

_Until it wasn’t.   
_   
_The heat off of Mohinder’s body was intense and the press of his hands against Gabriel’s chest, firm but gentle, achingly drew Gabriel’s arms around his waist, where he pressed his left hand to the small of Mohinder’s back while angling his right arm upwards to press their chests together. When Mohinder, with his right leg wedged between Gabriel’s, looked his way there had been no hesitation as he kissed the unspoken question off of Gabriel’s lips. That taste—mouths parted, tips of their tongues caressing—was the consummation of things never said and Gabriel had tightened his hold around Mohinder’s body. _

_He relished in the sensation of their chests together, beating out a matching rhythm, the perfection of their faces angled to fit their noses in the small curvature of existing space, and the hint of saddle wood scented soap shared between them (much to Mohinder’s annoyance) on their travels that subtly poured off their skin. He had been overcome by Mohinder still fisting his shirt as the physical declaration, not holding him at a distance but refusing to let go, and the rush of blood in their veins, inflamed. _

_But mostly Gabriel had been sideswiped, and the confusion was not frustrating or a noteworthy point for future manipulations; until now, of course, but even this came from a more personal need. His confusion had been happenstance; something never imagined to happen but once it had it was as if a crack had etched its way across a Pandora’s Box.   
_  
Away from it all, sitting in the backroom office, Gabriel pretends to check his watch. “Would it make it easier for you if I agreed to your deflection? If I said it was all me and took away all your responsibility?” He meets Mohinder’s troubled stare. “Everything happened to you, is that right? Does that sound like you?”

He knows Mohinder well enough that a suggestion of passivity and lack of agency will tangle his tongue. Mohinder may not always see the consequences of the big picture but that has never stopped him from diving in head first and somehow, inexplicably really, landing on his feet. At the moment Mohinder pursing his mouth is a welcome point in the win category for Gabriel—it means he would love nothing more than to have the kiss and its aftermath fall on Gabriel’s plate but that shifting responsibility fully would imply some sort of indifferent victimization. When a lie is worse than the truth, which is still a convoluted mess, what is the best option?

Mohinder looks at the desk, the ceiling, the door, and Gabriel gets a thrill out of his avoidance. “If you don’t wish to accept your own culpability…” Mohinder begins.

“Like you? If it was just a kiss then stop over thinking it.” Gabriel’s tone is cold on purpose. Keeping his emotions in check and reining them in is the equivalent of hitting the reset button and taking a deep breath while deciding whether to keep going on turn back. Shutting Mohinder down, while a coup in itself, also buys Gabriel the time to do some self-reflection.

Over thinking is not a trait only Mohinder suffers from. It had been an obscenity hurled out by Lestor that shook them from themselves and threw them into this purgatory, the state of which involved conversations that were stilted and short and only revolved around work, a distance of no less than four feet, and a most obvious display of not making any eye contact. It would have been amusing under other circumstances.

That was the key: avoidance was the mandate when the border gave way. However, ignorance was difficult when they nearly lived and breathed each other—and not only while on assigned missions but in the downtime in between when they still managed to somehow show up in each other’s space; the apartment, lab, coffee shop, even the odd visit to Grays and Sons.

Mohinder looks at him with such intense defiance that Gabriel has to restrain himself from grabbing him around the neck with both hands and marking him with a searing kiss. That is not a distraction Gabriel needs right now. He wonders if this is the cruelty of unrequited…love?—no—like—no, _love_. He deals with the not knowing by hiding behind offensive acts of restraint and denial but Mohinder’s dark brown eyes penetrate his resolve.

“I should ask the same of you,” Mohinder counters, then softly adds, “so silent on the drive back and yet you expect me to believe there was nothing going through your head but songs off the radio?”

That had been the greatest irony of them all. Within the restrictive walls of the car where they could plead indifference, while Mohinder focused on his driving and Gabriel stared out the window, that was when Gabriel was most consumed with what had been unearthed in a moment of instinct and protection. As Mohinder had mulled over whatever it was that held his tongue idle, the silence provided Gabriel with the perfect cover to give credence to his own thoughtful persuasions.

Stuck in the office, Mohinder rolls his eyes, but it is not dismissive as expected, and he looks away leaving Gabriel with an accusatory taunt.

It was not easy to explain the more primal fantasies that spun recklessly about Gabriel’s head. _He had thought about bending Mohinder over the hood of the car, pants down around his ankles, hands on his hips, thrusting into him, swift and steady, while Mohinder pushed back against him, baring his neck and beckoning Gabriel to taste him.   
_  
Gabriel rubs his right hand contemplatively across his mouth and, glancing at Mohinder, finds him licking his lips and thoughtfully clasping his hands in his lap.

_Gabriel had imagined bracing himself against the wall of the motel room with his arms stretched out while Mohinder knelt naked at his feet. Using telekinesis to keep Mohinder’s head from banging backwards against the wall, Gabriel thrust forward, fucking his hot wet mouth. He felt the graze of Mohinder’s teeth along his shaft and heard the muffled whimpers of arousal from his tight lips. Sweat poured down Gabriel’s face and, looking at the man below (who in turn was watching him), he saw Mohinder’s rock hard cock pointing straight up, straining, rocking with the jerking motion of his body. But rather than touching himself, Mohinder’s hands were grabbing at Gabriel’s ass and Gabriel let loose a guttural groan as Mohinder began slowly, then more quickly, thrusting two fingers into his hole.   
_  
Mohinder, with his hands still clasped, angles up his wrists to check his watch. “Seriously,” he mumbles, “I have half the mind to think Peter’s watching us not talk.”

_Gabriel had daydreamed about Mohinder over top of him in the backseat of the car, moving in and out of him with a twist of his hips, bringing Gabriel’s legs up around his waist to force their bodies as physically close together as possible, panting into each other’s mouths.   
_  
Mohinder turns to him and says with exasperation, “Are you listening to anything I’m saying?” He hmmphs and pushes up and out of his chair. “This is a waste of time.”

“Were you always this anxious being alone with me?” Gabriel says in a rumbling voice, still awkwardly caught up in the flood of salacious fantasies. He ignores Mohinder’s look of annoyance. “Peter will be here. Sit down. Take it easy.”

“I don’t take orders from you, despite what you may think in your delusional state.”

Gabriel twitches his right index finger and telekinetically pushes Mohinder into a seated position on the edge of the desk.

“Sylar!” Mohinder argues, trying to break free of the force pushing down on him.   
“Sy—Gabriel!”

Unfortunately this is not the ideal time for Mohinder to finally refer to him by his given name. But it is a nice try. Gabriel stands up and closes down the space between them, reveling in the anxiousness of Mohinder’s shifty eyes as he realizes the control Gabriel is exerting over him.

“You make it much more difficult for yourself than it needs to be, Mohinder. Imagine the relief of a simple admission.”

“So simple you won’t say it? You’re using mind games to turn the inconsequential into something significant, defining the meaningless as something worthy. What exactly are you hoping to gain?”

_The most troublesome daydream was a recurring one that forced Gabriel to shift in the passenger seat, turning his body away from Mohinder as he desperately tried to hide the evidence of pained arousal. The speeding scenery outside of the car only served to hypnotically heighten his mind’s trip to a shared bed with them pressed against each other. Their shirts half undone, they had their hands down the front of each other’s pants and lazily stroked the length of half hard erections, grinning and chuckling into each other’s mouths, broken up by heated kisses.   
_  
The blatant honesty of the reverie telling him how easily he can be sated is off putting to say the least. Gabriel has always had higher expectations for himself, and yet denying what feels right for what should be desired is the innocuous revelation that plays havoc. His vice grip on Mohinder is not helping matters—not since Mohinder’s awareness of what specific physical actions meant manifested in a sharp tongue he used to strike an equal blow.

With trepidation Gabriel releases his hold, fully expecting Mohinder to bolt up and shove him back while walking away—to continue this paint by numbers go around. But Mohinder surprises him. Relief crosses his face at the feeling of freedom and he slowly stands up and steps towards Gabriel, cutting down the remaining space between them into something negligible. As has become usual, Gabriel is trapped in Mohinder’s eyes as they search his with questioning wonder that has usurped the place of stark verbal attacks and a stinging glare.

“Was it so bad?” Gabriel muses half-heartedly, ensuring his tone contains the lightness of a joking edge.

“No, of course not,” Mohinder shakes his head, his words said with unexpected urgency. “It was just…a surprise.”

“You kissed me first.”

“I surprised myself,” Mohinder clarifies and he collects himself with a deep breath. He raises his right hand as if he is about to grasp something unseen in the air before deciding against it. “I…admit that.”

“But do you regret it?”

“Sylar!” Mohinder rolls his eyes in frustration. “I’m trying to be serious.”

“It was just a question,” Gabriel says and sighs. “I wasn’t trying to interrogate you.”

Mohinder raises an eyebrow.

Gabriel smirks. “Not this time at least.”

“Look,” Mohinder says, “we have to work together so things like this will only serve as a distraction if you read too much into them. It’s best to just…”

Gabriel wrinkles his forehead as he tries to decipher Mohinder’s meaning. “You want us to put a disclaimer on things like this so if—or _when_—they happen again—for _work_—that it remains business as usual without all the analysis?”

In Mohinder’s visage is a hint of disagreement but he clears his throat and nods. “That would be best.”

_For whom? _Gabriel thinks. But the understanding that Mohinder is not completely dismissing their kiss or promising it will never happen again lessens his disappointment in the thwarted attempt to redefine their relationship. If it had not meant anything Mohinder would have sworn a blood oath. It sounds like an odd version of ‘friends with benefits,’ which does not carry the cache what they have actually deserves. Yet without a firm acknowledgment it is a case of being stuck at square one. Gabriel does not know how much more of it he can take before a payoff needs to appear in the cards.

“Of course it would,” Gabriel lies and moves away from Mohinder. He trails his fingers along the arms and back of the chair he had been sitting in and comes to stop behind it, grasping the top of the backrest in both of his hands. He faces Mohinder who is watching him closely.

“Peter will be here soon to talk about our next mission. He won’t read your mind because he’s such an upstanding guy,” Gabriel states with traces of sarcasm. “But he’ll try mine on for size—don’t worry, there’s nothing to be defensive about. We’re crystal clear.”

On time, Peter arrives looking rushed and offers no more than a cursory hello. Jerking his head at the open door he says, “Can’t talk. We’re meeting Bennet.” Two seconds later they are alone again.

Mohinder looks worriedly at Gabriel who shrugs casually.

“Sylar.”

“It was just a kiss,” Gabriel says, still not very convincingly but with enough resignation to more than make up for it.

Under Mohinder’s watchful gaze, he heads towards the door. Unexpectedly, Mohinder crosses in front of him. Gabriel nearly falls back a step when Mohinder presses his right hand to his chest and, looking at the floor then meeting Gabriel’s curious gaze, says, “No, it wasn’t.”

Not giving the confession time to sink in Mohinder drops his hand and quickly walks to the door. Gabriel, confused as to what prompted the change of heart, freezes in stunned silence then breaks into a knowing grin and follows behind. He had not expected Mohinder to crack so fast and if he can figure out what exactly tripped the switch and made this time different from the others he can most definitely use that to his advantage. He just might be able to make one (_or all_?) of his fantasies a reality.

They are like clockwork.   
 

**Author's Note:**

> Heroes Slash Awards  
> **Nominated for Best Alternate Universe**  
> **Nominated for Best Mohinder/Sylar (R-NC17) Fic**


End file.
